it’s 6:15 on a wednesday morning
the rain skims my window
tapping the present away
I sit in bed, three-quarters awake
slanted to one side regretting my very being
for having to be up at this hour
and that one-quarter of my being
that’s still asleep
is the strongest quarter,
he’s still dreaming of a day in the future,
a future close enough that bright tangerine and daffodil smears in the sky reflect in his irises,
but far enough to have to squint to see the sun that’s projecting that masterpiece across the shore
a future where we’re together again
where through our soaked parkas we can feel each other’s heartbeats
where the pacific mist kisses our cheeks
and pine needles stick, nestled in our hair, under the redwood canopy
and where our stars turn up after that very sun sets over the starlit coast
where our feet are burrowed in the soft, wet sand,
whose grains are washed from our toes with the rising tide
The rain skims my window
tapping the present away
I love the rain
it’s like wherever I am, I can feel you with every rainfall
it’s 6:16 now on a wednesday morning
and I miss you
